Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Zambia and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Connie Case to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Tres Demented. All the underground hits.
All Eric B and Rakim tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Monolake record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Durutti Column record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Camouflage,
Ultimate Spinach,
Junior Murvin,
Eric B and Rakim,
Danielle Patucci,
Whodini,
Scan 7,
Angry Samoans,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Rites of Spring,
Heaven 17,
The Searchers,
10cc,
Fluxion,
Dark Day,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Los Fastidios,
Nils Olav,
Lou Reed,
Average White Band,
Severed Heads,
Tres Demented,
Wolf Eyes,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Procol Harum,
Newcleus,
The Tremeloes,
Sam Rivers,
Sandy B,
Silicon Teens,
Jandek,
Curtis Mayfield,
Desert Stars,
The Count Five,
New Age Steppers,
Bluetip,
Surgeon,
The Music Machine,
Inner City,
Eddi Front,
Pussy Galore,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Marcia Griffiths,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Birthday Party,
The Fortunes,
Popol Vuh,
Gastr Del Sol,
Pierre Henry,
Interpol,
Main Source,
Basic Channel,
Stetsasonic,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Eurythmics,
The Standells,
Cameo,
Amon Düül II,
Agitation Free,
The Star Department, The Star Department, The Star Department, The Star Department.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.